Edmund Spenser

Sonnet Lxxxiii - Poem by Edmund Spenser

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MY hungry eyes, through greedy couetize,Still to behold the obiect of theyr payne:with no contentment can themselues suffize,but hauing pine, and hauing not complayneFor lacking it, they cannot lyfe sustayne,and seeing it, they gaze on it the more:in theyr amazement lyke Marcissus vaynewhose eyes him staru'd: so plenty makes me pore.Yet are myne eyes so filled with the storeof that fayre sight, that nothing else they brooke:but loath the things which they did like before,and can no more endure on them to looke.All this worlds glory seemeth vayne to me,and all theyr shewes but shadowes sauing she.